


High Maintenance

by Selena Barton (sel_barton)



Series: High Maintenance Universe [1]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-11
Updated: 2012-02-11
Packaged: 2017-10-30 23:13:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/337232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sel_barton/pseuds/Selena%20Barton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Darthanne gave me a drabble prompt of mist, and well, this is far from a drabble.  The universe took on a life of it's own.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Darthanne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darthanne/gifts).



> Darthanne gave me a drabble prompt of mist, and well, this is far from a drabble. The universe took on a life of it's own.

Quatre leaned in the doorway and watched the neighbor's door. The tall man in the door was talking softly, but Quatre could hear the voice well enough to know he liked the way it sounded. He watched the small smile and nod, the bangs flopping slightly with the motion. 

“Of course, Mrs. Avery. I'll be sure to stop by and get a piece later, but right now, I just couldn't. If I ruined my dinner, Cathy would have my hide,” Trowa answered politely.

“She needs to feed you better. Just look at you,” the old woman said poking an arthritic finger at his mid-section.

Quatre certainly looked. The man was handsome. And polite, he hadn't missed that. He also hadn't missed the other name, but Quatre wasn't going to give up the dream just for that. That man was going to be worth some effort.

“Well, if you need anything else, just call down. I'll be glad to come up and take care of it for you. Have a good evening,” Trowa said and started to turn. He saw the door just down the hall close.

With a shrug, Trowa headed back down to his apartment and a dinner he certainly wasn't eager to eat.

“I'm back,” Trowa called as he entered the apartment.

“Was it really broken?” Catherine asked as Trowa made it into the doorway of the kitchen.

“Yes, this time,” Trowa chuckled. 

“She really is lonely up there. I'm surprised she doesn't think the cat talks to her,” Catherine sighed.

“She talks to it either way,” Trowa replied. “And she's making a blackberry cobbler tonight. I had to agree to come by and get a piece so that she'd stop offering me the last piece of apple pie.”

“Maybe we should go up, keep her company for a little while. I haven't seen her family around in a while.”

Trowa nodded as his sister turned to look at him. “I'll be sure to save some room then.”

“You'll eat your dinner, Trowa Barton,” Catherine huffed at him, hands landing on her hips.

“Always, but I certainly don't want to hurt the woman's feelings tonight, and she's concerned I'm not fed enough. I know what kind of portions she serves,” Trowa chuckled.

* * *

Quatre looked around his apartment quickly at first, and then more selectively. He was no handy man; he knew that all too well. But he certainly could manage to find some reason to get a chance to talk to the Adonis of maintenance. 

He thought back to when he'd looked at the apartment and what the landlord had said about all the maintenance being handled by one man who was quite skilled in not just repairs but in dealing with his more reclusive tenants as well. Reclusive, he had been told, meant the tenants that just didn't go out all that much, including those without the means to go, though they were few.

Quatre had welcomed the assurance of an apartment where no one would pay attention to who he was. He'd finally gotten out from his father's shadow to some degree, and he didn't intend to be shoved back into it by people judging him based on something as unimportant as a name. He was a man of his own mind, and he didn't care to hear how they felt about his father's choices in business. 

With a sigh, he settled into what was supposed to be a guest room with his violin. He always thought best while playing, his mind free to the flow of the music. 

* * *

Quatre was jolted from his reading by a knock on his door. He placed the bookmark and closed the book gently, careful not to damage any pages, before he set it on the side table. He peered out the peep hole before opening the door.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, dear boy,” the elderly woman said as she looked into his bright aquamarine eyes. “I can't seem to figure out what is wrong with my phone. Could you call down and have Trowa come up and check it out?”

“Certainly. You live in the next suite, right?” Quatre asked, and she nodded. “Alright, I'll call him for you. I'm sure he'll be right up.”

“Thank you, sweetie.”

Quatre watched her go back to her apartment after assuring her that he'd call as soon as she was in. He shook his head as he closed his door and headed for his own phone. He held his breath a moment and let it out slowly before drawing the card out to get the number for his Adonis. 

“Hello?” came a female voice.

Quatre blinked a few times, “Excuse me, is Trowa Barton there?”

“Yes, just a moment,” she said into the receiver and then in the background he heard her calling for Trowa.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Mr. Barton?”

“Trowa,” he replied with a faint chuckle.

“Trowa,” Quatre repeated quietly with a smile. “Mrs. Avery says she's having trouble with her phone. She'd like for you to check it out for her.”

“Alright, I'll be right up,” Trowa answered.

Quatre heard the phone click before he could say anything more. He looked at the receiver for a moment before the thought settled in as more than pathetic. 

“I bet she's unhooked a line from it,” Quatre mumbled.

* * *

Quatre looked at the faucet and the fine mist coming from round the end piece. With a satisfied nod, he turned and crossed the kitchen to the phone and the little card he'd laid out. It didn't take long for his fingers to dial in the numbers, but as the first ring sounded, he started to question himself. 

“Hello,” came the baritone voice.

“Trowa,” Quatre spoke, his mind screaming he should have just hung up the phone.

“Yes. Can I help you?”

“I'm sorry. I seem to have a problem with my faucet,” Quatre said and hoped that Trowa couldn't somehow hear his heart beat speeding up or his mind screaming and demanding he just hang up the phone before he got himself any deeper.

“Which apartment?”

“Four thirty-four,” Quatre answered.

“Alright, I'll be right there,” Trowa replied, and the phone clicked before Quatre could make himself speak again.

“Get a hold of yourself Winner. Like Ira says, it's just an experiment. If all goes well, you'll know what you need to know soon enough,” Quatre said as the receiver clicked into the base. He sighed, “Then maybe you'll stop talking to yourself.”

He hurried to put away the few dishes from his dinner that he'd finished washing so that the kitchen would be cleaned up. He drummed his fingers on the counter for a minute before hastily slipping the card into the drawer. He looked in at the apartment door and then back to the faucet.

“You're losing it,” he breathed and nearly jumped out of his skin as someone knocked on his door.

He looked through the peep hole, then eagerly opened the door. He ran his palms down his thighs as Trowa looked down the hall.

“Good evening Mrs. Avery,” Trowa said.

“Good evening, Trowa. Will you be over for cookies later? I just baked a fresh batch,” she called over to him.

“Not tonight. Cathy has dinner for me already, and she tried a new dessert of some kind,” Trowa offered. He hoped that would be enough to keep from hurting the woman's feelings. She was the closest thing to a family outside of Catherine Trowa had away from the circus.

Trowa turned his head back to find the blond looking at him carefully, the sharp eyes studying his face. “You said there was an issue?”

“Yes, please, come in,” Quatre said, stepping aside and wiping his palms along his jeans again. “I hope I didn't interrupt anything.”

Trowa shook his head, “Not at all.” He walked into the apartment and headed straight for the kitchen. He didn't waste time looking around, just right to work. 

Trowa turned on the water and watched the water mist and spray out around the end. He turned the water off, turned the end with his fingers, and tried the water again. “There you go.”

Quatre looked at him through blond bangs before nodding, “I know nothing about faucets or plumbing.”

“It's alright. I've gotten worse calls,” Trowa chuckled. The sound made Quatre smile brightly. He looked into the gorgeous green eye he could see for the fall of Trowa's bangs and nodded once more.

“I really hope I didn't interrupt anything with your girlfriend. Had I realized it was that simple,” Quatre started, but Trowa held up a hand to stop him.

“You didn't. She's not my girlfriend; she's my sister.”

Quatre smiled and fought the urge to sigh in relief. “Only one?”

“Far as I know,” Trowa replied with an amused smile.

“Must be nice. I have 29. Talk about a struggle for a bathroom, even with my own. They always seemed to be in there as well,” Quatre chuckled.

“Twenty-nine?” Trowa asked doubting the number.

“Yes. My father had more than one wife,” Quatre answered carefully.

“Mormon?” Trowa asked with an eyebrow raised.

Quatre shook his head.

Trowa looked at the shift in the eyes looking at him, from watching with interest to gauging the situation. “Oh, I understand. If it makes you feel any better, I don't do religion per say. I have issues with organized religion in general.”

Quatre sighed lightly in relief that he hadn't just totally screwed up every chance he had with getting to know the man, let alone his living arrangements. He blushed as he realized he had actually sighed.

“I should be getting back,” Trowa said. “If I don't eat her meatloaf while it's hot, it might just kill me,” Trowa said with a teasing groan. “I was hoping it would be a job requiring I run for parts, which would mean drive thru dinner.”

Quatre laughed, “Is she into science too?”

“Science?” Trowa asked. “No, knives.”

“Knives?”

“We spent summers growing up working in a circus. We still do when they need help,” Trowa explained.

“My sister, Iria, is a horrible cook. I can't begin to understand how she can follow a formula so easily and not a recipe. I dont' see the difference.”

“Science doesn't have to taste good?” Trowa offered.

Quatre laughed, “That may be the very difference.”

“So, are you liking your apartment?” Trowa asked as he looked around the kitchen. The table was mahogany, a nice piece, far more expensive than most had there. The chairs were the same. And it was big enough for four. The counters were mostly bare, a small coffee maker and tiny toaster near the stove. A microwave set on the shelf over the stove.

“Yes,” Quatre answered watching Trowa's eyes take in everything. “I don't spend much time in the kitchen.” He wasn't about to say that he hadn't really had the opportunity to cook much before moving out. He was trying very hard to not let people know about his family's position.

Trowa moved back to the doorway he'd passed through to look around Quatre's living room. The TV was fairly large, one that Trowa wanted but couldn't afford on his salary. He fought the urge to whistle low at the sound system that he saw hooked to it as well. This tenant was no slouch when it came to electronics. Or his furniture for that matter, Trowa decided. The sofa, he noticed, had recliners on each end, and he was certain it had the fold down part in the middle back, covered in a suede that he was sure wasn't fake. The overstuffed chair that was off to one side was flanked by a small, two shelf bookcase. He couldn't see the titles from there. He also didn't miss what he was sure was a touch screen reader on top of the bookcase.

“Is there anything else you need fixed while I'm up here?” Trowa asked as he tried not to show how out of place he felt.

“I think that's all, sorry,” Quatre answered. 

Trowa nodded, “Well, you need anything, call. You know how to find me.” And with that Trowa left Quatre's apartment.

Quatre sighed. That man was handsome to a fault, the fault being it was distracting. Quatre sat on the couch and reached underneath. He pulled out a book that was basically plumbing for the plumbing challenged.

“Okay that was far too simple to fix. He has the ability to talk to me like I'm just some guy, and I am not going to let him walk out that easy.” He flipped through the pages and set to reading.

* * *

Catherine watched Trowa leaning into the window. He'd opened it and stopped talking when something had pulled up out front. 

“Oh my god,” Trowa gasped.

“What are you going on about?” Catherine asked.

“The blond,” Trowa groaned and pointed.

“Yeah?” she asked leaning closer and watching the blond.

“That's the guy that called last night about the sink,” Trowa tried again.

“Ohhhhh,” she replied with a smirk.

“Now I know I was dreaming,” Trowa grumbled.

“What? A guy like that can't enjoy a little conversation with the handyman?” she teased.

“Come on. That's a limo,” Trowa defended. “High maintenance guys like that don't settle for lowly maintenance men like me.”

“Says who?” Catherine snapped. “And who the hell told you that you were low or to be settled for? He should be honored you even noticed him.”

“Honored? I doubt that,” Trowa sighed.

“You shouldn't think so little of yourself. I'm sure there are some pretty high dollar prostitutes out there that get cars like that sent for them all the time. Doesn't make them any better in bed because they ride in it.” She paused for a moment and then smirked, “Though it might make it more interesting if the seats are leather.”

“And you wonder why I don't discuss my sex life with you,” Trowa sighed. 

“Lack of,” she teased. “Admit it, you have the hots for him, and I can certainly see why.”

“He didn't talk to me like I was stupid just because I was fixing his sink rather than calling in some over priced plumber.”

“You fixed it, why should he?”

Trowa sighed as he watched the car pull away.


	2. Chapter 2

Quatre toyed with the ideas running around in his head. “Stop by Kmart on the way back,” Quatre said as the driver pulled out of the parking lot.

“Mister Winner?”

Quatre sighed.

“Quatre,” the deep voice rumbled.

“Rashid, if I tell you what it's about, you'll only tell me how unethical it is. And I don't need to hear it. I already know,” Quatre answered. 

“Then why are you doing whatever it is?”

“Because I want to get to know him,” Quatre answered. He couldn't keep secrets from the man driving. He couldn't refuse him, never had been able to.

“You can't ask him over for dinner and a movie?” Rashid asked eying his passenger in the rear view mirror.

“He eats enough bad meals at home. I don't need to poison the man,” Quatre replied with a fond smile as he remembered the way they'd talked the night before.

“You are infatuated,” Rashid chuckled.

“You have no idea,” Quatre chuckled in return knowing full well that Rashid knew him practically as well as he knew himself, sometimes better.

“Let me try. He didn't recognize you, talked to you like a a typical person, and I'll bet he has long legs and well defined muscles,” Rashid said the smile broadening as Quatre's cheeks reddened with each correct statement.

* * *

“Quatre,” called the familiar voice.

“Heero, you made it,” Quatre said stepping out of the car. “Have you gotten to look around yet?”

“I have,” he answered reaching out a hand. Quatre grasped it firmly and tugged Heero into a friendly embrace. Heero wrapped his arm around Quatre's shoulders. “Why do I even bother trying?” Heero chuckled.

“I don't know; you'd think you'd have learned by now,” Quatre chuckled. “Now, what are we looking at?”

“It won't work for what you were sent to inspect it for, but I believe it will be of use for your purposes,” Heero replied. 

They turned to enter the building.

“So, you think we can manage it?”

“Of course. With Chang and I as your team, I don't see a possibility for failure,” Heero answered, a smirk turning up the corners of his mouth.

“Oh yes, my business sense and money have no determining factor,” Quatre teased.

* * *

Quatre licked his lips as Trowa opened the cabinet doors and leaned under the sink. Trowa gracefully turned himself over and laid back to look up at the pipes. Quatre chocked back the groan that longed to slip free at the lean legs stretched out and the strip of stomach peeking out between the tshirt and jeans. 

“Can you hand me the flashlight?” Trowa asked reaching out a hand palm up.

Quatre gripped the long shaft and swallowed hard before laying it into Trowa's palm. “Here,” Quatre muttered as he watched long, nimble finger wrap around the shaft. He swallowed the moan working it's way up. 

“I hate to admit I put this in myself right before you moved in,” Trowa grumbled as he trailed the leaking water back to it's source.

“I'm sure it's nothing you did. It's been fine all this time,” Quatre assured. He heard a sound he wasn't sure was a nod or just a shifting of position inside the cabinet. “I have the worst luck lately.”

And he was sure that was the problem. If he had better luck, he'd be able to find away to find out what he wanted to know without having to use such questionable methods.

Trowa crawled out from the cabinet and started to take apart the faucet. Quatre fought the urge to reach out and touch the defined body before him. 

Quatre found himself almost holding his breath as Trowa picked up the seal that was broken. 

“I've seen seals give out, but not like this,” Trowa mumbled.

Quatre's eyes darted from the seal in Trowa's fingers to his handsome face, only calming once he was sure that Trowa didn't suspect a thing. “I have an interesting problem?”

“Well, this could have happened on meatloaf night, and I'd have been happier,” Trowa chuckled.

“It's going to take some time?” Quatre asked.

“Mostly the trip to the store to get the seal,” Trowa answered. He was almost to the door when he thought he was being watched rather closely. “I'll have it fixed before you know it.”

“Oh,” Quatre replied rather softly. He cleared his throat to lose the bit of sadness that worked into his voice.

Trowa raised an eyebrow as he looked back at the blond and then shook his head to dislodge the hope that nipped at him. “I'll be back in about a half hour.”

Quatre nodded. He plastered his business smile on his lips and met the green eyes, “I'll be here.”

Trowa nodded and left.

Quatre sighed and sunk into the edge of the couch. “I have gone beyond pathetic.”

* * *

Trowa set the packet of seals on the counter. The cashier was smiling brightly until he saw the look on Trowa's face.

“Whoa, whoa Buddy. What's wrong? Who killed the Easter Bunny?”

“It's nothing, Duo. Nothing,” Trowa sighed and flicked the packet a bit closer to Duo's hand.

“Come on, tell me,” Duo encouraged.

“It's nothing,” Trowa insisted. “Come on, I gotta get back and finish fixing this guy's sink.”

Duo looked at Trowa, blinking a couple times. “Oh my god, you aren't telling me Mister Sexy is having trouble drawing attention where he wants it, are you?”

“I'm not trying; now hurry up,” Trowa hissed.

“You are forbidden to back out of drinks tonight. We are going, and you are telling me everything. Do you hear me?” Duo insisted. The scanner beeped as it read the code. 

Trowa handed Duo the money on the display.

“Alright, I won't back out, but you'll be in miserable company,” Trowa grumbled.

* * *

Quatre opened his door quickly, “Oh, Heero.”

Heero raised an eyebrow. “Were you expecting someone?”

“No, no, not exactly,” Quatre answered stepping aside and motioning his friend inside.

Heero walked to the kitchen to look at the torn apart fixture. “Do I want to know why your sink looks like a war zone?”

“No, you don't want to ask that question. Believe me, I already feel bad enough about it,” Quatre muttered.

Heero turned to look at Quatre more carefully. “Should I come back later or are you up for some business?”

Quatre glanced to the clock, “He should be back to finish soon.”

Heero shook his head. “Do you think a handy man would steal your ideas?”

“Trowa wouldn't,” Quatre gasped and then slapped his hand over his mouth.

“Trowa? You know this man that well?” Heero asked moving to settle into the corner of the couch Quatre had been curled into since Trowa had left.

“Well, not exactly,” Quatre answered, his cheeks faintly pinked and his eyes staying on the floor.

“Sit,” Heero said, and Quatre quickly found himself doing just that on the other end of the couch. “Alright, as you typically tell me, start talking.”

“He...he doesn't even know who I am. He doesn't recognize me. He just talks to me like,” Quatre sighed, “like I'm average.”

“Average? Quatre Winner, you are far from average in many ways, and none of them have to do with your family name,” Heero asserted.

“No one ever sees that though. Well, except for you and Wufei,” Quatre sighed. “I'm tired of shallow bimbos that see dollar signs and fancy things. I want something real, Heero. Something that I earn on my own, and I'm ashamed to say I'm going about it in a horrible way.”

Heero looked at the wall as if he could see through it to the sink. “You did it, didn't you?”

Quatre nodded.

“We really need to work on your people skills,” Heero said turning to look back at Quatre.

“We?” Quatre teased.

“Okay, we need to find someone better at talking to people first,” Heero chuckled. “There's a reason you want me to design and install rather than talk deals.”

“Why can't talking to him be like speaking at a board meeting?” Quatre sighed.

“I'd think that would be worse,” Heero chuckled.

“I don't mean as boring,” Quatre chuckled. “I meant as easy. I know how to prepare for that.”

Heero nodded, “That you do.”

The knock on the door drew both their attention to it. Quatre walked over far calmer than he had been until he peered through the peep hole. He wiped his palms on his jeans before opening the door. 

“Welcome back,” Quatre said letting Trowa inside once more.

“Thanks,” Trowa said out of habit as he stepped inside. He looked at the man on the couch who seemed very comfortable there. 

Heero watched Trowa, eyes taking in details as they moved. He didn't design security systems without knowing how to pick up small details quickly and efficiently.

“I'll just go finish that up now,” Trowa said, his eyes meeting Heero's and making a silent challenge for him to question his purpose for being there.

“No rush,” Quatre blurted out. He swallowed quickly and started again, “This is my friend, Heero Yuy.”

Trowa nodded. “Trowa Barton, maintenance.”

Heero stood and offered a hand. Trowa grasped the offered hand firmly, not about to allow the more formal attire on the man make him soften his grip. He believed in a firm handshake. He was surprised when the firm grip was returned, but nothing more.

“I didn't realize he was having work done. I brought over some paperwork from the office,” Heero explained taking his hand back with a smirk. “I hope I won't be in the way.”

“Long as you don't plan on discussing it in the sink,” Trowa said with a weak smile and hurried into the kitchen.

“Nice guy; a bit uncomfortable though,” Heero said.

“Heero,” Quatre hissed quietly.

Heero chuckled at his blushing friend. He wasn't sure which of them was more like a lovesick teenager with a crush, Quatre or Trowa, but he saw it clear enough.

“Chang is going to love this,” Heero mumbled.

“What?” Quatre asked as he sat down and tugged the center down on the couch to make a work surface.

“Nothing, Quatre. Nothing,” he answered and began to unfold the papers.


	3. Chapter 3

Duo knocked on Trowa's door. The door opened to reveal his sister instead.

“Hey there Cathy, Tro' about ready?”

“He really isn't up to going out, Duo,” she tried.

“You and I both know he'd stay in there in his room outside of work if we let him. He's going out with me, and he already promised to not back out on me tonight,” Duo insisted.

“Duo, you don't understand,” Catherine started.

“I do. He needs to get out and get around warm bodies and activity,” Duo countered.

Trowa moved into the doorway of his room with a sigh, “It's alright Cathy.”

“But Trowa,” she started and stopped when she saw him. He wasn't any different than when he'd gone to the store really. Just clean clothes rather than the ones he'd been crawling under the sink in.

“Duo's right; I agreed.”

Duo looked him over and sighed. “You're gonna make me work for this, aren't ya?”

“I warned you,” Trowa answered raising up and walking to the door. Trowa looked at Catherine, “Don't wait up. I'll be in late.”

* * *

Duo leaned on the bar and waited for the drinks. He nodded and greeted a few of the regulars, took the drinks placed in front of him, and headed back to the table.

“Here ya go,” Duo said as slid into the seat by Trowa and placed the drink in front of him.

Trowa sipped from the glass bottle and turned the bottle slowly between his fingers. “Thanks.”

“So,” Duo started looking over the mouth of his bottle, “you wanna start talking now or is it gonna take a few?”

“I'm not getting trashed. One or two is quite enough,” Trowa grumbled.

“Then start talking,” Duo said taking a swig from the bottle.

“He was picked up in a limo. A limo,” Trowa sighed.

“Okay some guy, limo...can I get the first 90 percent of the story?” Duo asked.

“He moved into the apartment you helped me with,” Trowa said.

Duo nodded.

“He called almost a week ago about an issue, easy fix,” Trowa went on, pausing to sip at his beer. “You should have seen all the fancy stuff he has in there. That was discouraging enough, knowing he has that kind of money.”

“Maybe he saved up,” Duo offered.

Trowa shook his head, “Doubt it. The next morning a limo pulled up out front to pick him up. He was out pretty much all morning before it brought him back.”

“Alright so he's got money, what about it?”

“He talked to me like I wasn't beneath him,” Trowa answered. 

Duo reached out and stilled the turning of the bottle. “Again, you aren't showing me the problem, Tro'.”

“Don't ya ever get sick of one night stands and flings?” Trowa asked looking up from their hands.

“At times,” Duo agreed, his hand slid back across the table to his bottle. He took a long swig as he waited for Trowa to continue.

“What does a guy like me have to offer a guy like that?”

Duo looked up at him with wide eyes. “What the hell don't you have to offer? If he's worth having, then you are all he should need,” Duo snapped.

“Come on, I can't begin to compete with what could possibly be throwing themselves at him.”

“And he's obviously not accepting it or you'd see them around,” Duo replied.

“Still, what do you give a guy like that anyway? He can probably go out and buy anything he wants.”

“Can't buy the important stuff,” Duo said and took another drink. “Can't buy real emotions.”

* * *

“Duo, we should go back downstairs and get you to bed,” Trowa insisted arm around his friend.

“Not yet,” Duo insisted and clumsily drug Trowa from the elevator. “Which one?”

“It's two thirty in the morning. Everyone else is in bed, come on.”

“Not until we're sure,” Duo answered.

Trowa sighed, his shoulders dropped. He was not going to win with Duo. He was hard enough to dissuade sober, and he'd gotten a little carried away before they left.

Duo stumbled into the door and tried to look in through the peep hole. “Dang, no light.”

“I told you, he's probably asleep. Now come back downstairs,” Trowa pleaded grabbing Duo's arm and tugging him back from the door. “You're going to wake him up with all this noise.”

“Might do some good,” Duo grumbled. “Should have kept you in and gotten you drunk. Loosen that tongue of yours.”

“It's loose enough, thank you,” Trowa sighed as he led his friend back to the elevator.

* * *

Quatre got out of the jeep and looked at his friends, "Good morning."

They looked at him carefully, the quiet, depressed voice drawing concerned looks from them both.

"Winner, are you alright?" Wufei asked as he neared.

Quatre gave a hurt glare and shook his head.

Wufei sighed, "Quatre."

Quatre gave a weak smile, "It's nothing, just a long night. Let's just get this walk through over."

Wufei and Heero nodded before following Quatre into the building.

They were half way through the building. Wufei was leaning in the window looking out at the surrounding area. "You are avoiding something. Hiding has never been your strongest tactic."

Quatre sighed. "I'm not hiding. I'm just not discussing."

"Avoiding," Wufei corrected as he turned to look across the room. "And I believe this will be an appropriate building for your father's purposes." 

Quatre turned and hurried on to the next room, “We should be sure.”

Wufei shook his head. 

Wufei and Heero followed, neither speaking until they entered the final room. Quatre knew he was in trouble when Heero stayed in the door way, and Wufei moved in behind him.

Wufei's hand gripped Quatre's shoulder, “Quatre, you have to stop.”

Quatre turned pained blue eyes on his friend, “It's just something that's going to take some time.”

“Did he figure out...?” Heero asked.

“Worse, I think he's seeing someone that isn't too keen on my interest,” Quatre sighed.

His friends looked at him for a moment before he continued.

“I heard something hit my door last night. When I went to investigate, they were having a rather hurried discussion, and Trowa was trying to get him back down the hall.”

Wufei pulled Quatre against him; Quatre's body slumped into the embrace.

“I have the worst luck,” Quatre mumbled into Wufei's shoulder.

“Perhaps there has been some misunderstanding,” Heero offered.

Wufei looked over his shoulder at Heero, “The one you mentioned?”

Heero nodded.

“I'm so glad the both of you have time to talk about me,” Quatre teased, the few tears that trailed down his cheeks were wiped away quickly.

“If Yuy is correct, I'm sure there has been some error in your interpretation.”

Quatre looked into the obsidian eyes, “I wish I could believe that.”

* * *

It had been two weeks since Trowa had seen Quatre. He hadn't really seen Duo either for that matter. Trowa's been to Mrs. Avery's apartment more than once, and not even a glimpse of the blonde. So Trowa grabbed the phone and called Duo. 

Trowa was only too glad to get to skip the trip upstairs for Duo to peer through the peep hole.

* * *

“Good morning, Mr. Winner,” Mrs. Avery said as he stepped into the hall.

He looked startled at the older woman, “Ma'am?”

“Such an interesting choice in buildings,” she said as she held up the paper for him to see the front page.

“Oh Allah!” Quatre gasped and grabbed hold of the paper with a shaky hand. He looked at the picture for a moment before handing it back and dashing down the stairs.

Mrs. Avery chuckled as she headed for the elevator. It didn't take her long to go downstairs and knocked on the familiar door on the first floor.

Catherine opened the door and looked surprised. “Mrs. Avery?” Catherine stepped aside for her to enter the apartment. “What can we do for you?”

“Have you seen the morning paper yet, dear?” she asked unfolding it in her hands to the cover story. “The poor dear was so flustered at making the front page,” she cooed.

Catherine took the paper from her neighbor and looked at the large photo and began to read.

“It can't be,” she gasped and moved to grab the magnifying glass. Sure enough the man in the photo was Quatre, their Quatre.

“Keep it long as you like,” Mrs. Avery said as she saw herself out.

Catherine barged into Trowa's room. “Trowa, you won't believe this,” she cried out.

Duo grabbed the pillow and stuffed his head under it, “Could you keep it down?”  
“That's what you get,” Catherine hissed.

Duo jerked the pillow from his head. “Knew I should have gone back to my own apartment last night.”

Trowa sat up in bed and held out his hand for the paper Catherine was waving around frantically.

“So?” he said as he read the headline.

“Read it,” Catherine insisted.

Duo sat up to lean over Trowa's shoulder to see what was going on.

“Quatre Winner, the only son of the WEI, has just...” Trowa looked up at Catherine. “There's no way!”

“You mean the cute blonde isn't just good with money, he's loaded?” Duo chuckled, sleep slowly leaving his mind.

“I don't believe it! He wouldn't live here with that kind of money. There's no way.” Trowa slammed the paper down on the bed before jerking the covers back and bolting out of bed. He jerked his jeans on over his boxers and grabbed the paper back up to stare at it in shock again.

“How many guys you know named Quatre, let alone guys with money?” Duo asked with a smirk.

Trowa headed for the door of his room. “The same number of guys with money that treat me like an equal,” he answered, voice kind of detached in shock.

“Uh uh, shirt if you plan on leaving the apartment,” Catherine said as he neared her.

Duo threw Trowa's shirt at him as he turned causing it to land on the paper in his hands. He jerked it on and ran his fingers through his bangs enough to get them to lay down. He had to see Quatre now. He had to hear from him that this was either a really big coincidence or real.

He was pounding on Quatre's door by the time Duo made it to the top of the stairs, still tugging the hem of his shirt down into place. He wanted to be there waiting if Trowa needed him.

Mrs. Avery opened her door to see the commotion. “Trowa, dear, he's left already. He was going out when I brought Catherine the paper.”

“Out,” he repeated faintly.

“The boy does have to work,” she chuckled.

Duo walked over, “Morning, Mrs. Avery.”

“Good morning. Staying out of trouble?” she asked amused.

“Yes, ma'am,” Duo answered and put his hand on Trowa's shoulder.

“Come on, Tro'. We've got work to do.”

* * *

Quatre was still in his car when Heero pulled into the parking lot, face buried into the steering wheel. Heero tapped a knuckle on the window and waited for Quatre to look up. Quatre's hand was shaking as he opened the door.

“What happened?” Heero asked reaching out a hand to rest on Quatre's shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“The paper,” he gasped. Heero waited patiently.

Quatre shook his head to clear his thoughts and took a deep breath. “They printed an article about the building we were purchasing for WEI.”

“They printed your name,” Heero reasoned. He hadn't had time to read the paper that morning before work.

Quatre nodded. “And the picture someone took was with the three of us looking around outside. We aren't clear, but that won't matter.”

“Maybe no one will think about it,” Heero offered.

“Mrs. Avery did, and I'm sure all the tenants will hear about it before I get home tonight,” Quatre sighed.

“They've had time to get to know the real you,” Heero encouraged.

“Hardly. Everyone tends to stay to themselves,” Quatre replied getting out of the jeep carefully.

They were almost to Quatre's office before they met with Wufei.

“There you are,” Wufei said, a morning paper clutched in his fist.

“I already found out,” Quatre said.

“How?” 

“A neighbor,” he answered.

“I should have called you,” Wufei said, his voice showing just how deeply he felt he'd failed his friend.

“The contract isn't even final,” Quatre grumbled as he entered his office.

“You did inform them of your wishes for no press involvement, didn't you?” Wufei asked as Quatre sat down.

“You know I did. I always do.”

“Cancel the agreement. We will find another building,” Wufei stated.

“On what grounds?” Quatre scoffed.

“Breech of contract. They agreed to no press,” Wufei insisted.

“I'm sure that would be legal, but considering it was only to keep my name out of the papers, I don't think that would be reasonable.”

“Demand the paper print a retraction, at the least,” Heero said. “You haven't closed and that makes the article inaccurate.”

“I love you both, but there are some things even you can't protect me from,” Quatre said. “The damage is already done.” His calm returning, he leaned forward on the desk and looked at them both. “We knew this was only temporary.”

They nodded.

“I just wish we could have bought you more time,” Wufei sighed.

“To what? Make a fool of myself chasing after the maintenance man?”

“You were almost done with the plans for,” Heero started, but stopped when Quatre held up a hand.

“I had plenty of evenings to finish that last week. The proper papers are ready as soon as you both approve them.”

* * *

Trowa sat in his room with the lights out watching the parking lot. Quatre hadn't answered his door in four days, and he'd been out until after dark, slipping in under the cover of night.

The paper had printed a retraction along with the cancellation of the contract for the building at the request of the legal team. 

As much as he wanted to believe it was all just a mistake, he had convinced himself that he had to hear it from Quatre to be sure. He needed to know what was really going on, and if he was really as out of his league as he feared.


	4. Chapter 4

“I can't believe you had that issued,” Quatre chuckled.

“I can't protect you from everything, but I can punish those that hurt you,” Wufei replied.

“I wish it were always so clear and simple,” Quatre said.

“Have you talked to him yet?” Wufei asked. He took a bite of his dinner as he watched Quatre shake his head and stare at his plate.

“I thought I'd told you hiding was not the correct tactic,” Wufei said eying him.

“You have, several times. I do believe a well guarded king survives longer than one left out in the open,” Quatre countered.

“This is not chess. If you hid your own needs any further,” Wufei started.

“Just because I don't give my heart easily,” Quatre started to argue.

“That's non-sense. He has your heart. You just refuse to tell him so.”

* * *

Quatre entered the complex after midnight. He'd spent long hours working up a new offer with Wufei. They had to have the building for WEI before he could finally move on with his own plans with a clear conscience.

He was half way up the first set of stairs when he heard a door open and close. He hurried up the stairs to the next landing before looking back.

Trowa looked up at the blond waiting nervously.

“I know its late,” Trowa started to say and his feet stopped on the middle of the stairs. Quatre looked worried, Trowa swallowed hard, “I'd like to talk to you, but you weren't answering your door.” 

Quatre closed his eyes and willed his racing heart to slow down. “About?”

“A lot of things. I'm sure you're tired, but I wanted to at least try.”

“I have a meeting tomorrow afternoon,” Quatre started.

“I understand,” Trowa sighed and turned to go back down the stairs. “I won't keep you.”

Quatre looked down at the man walking down the stairs, head hung and slow timed steps. He was sure he was looking for an invite on up, but Quatre wasn't ready for that, wasn't sure it didn't have to do with his newly revealed identity.

“Wait,” Quatre blurted out despite himself.

Trowa stopped, his back still to Quatre.

“They...they can't reschedule,” Quatre started.

Trowa shook his head and started to walk once more.

“Please, I want to talk,” Quatre said.

Trowa looked back to see a hand falling to Quatre's side where it appeared to have been reached out to him.

“If your boyfriend won't mind,” Quatre added softly, voice sounding far weaker than he'd intended.

“Boyfriend?” Trowa asked confused.

“The guy with the braid. I saw you both the other night,” Quatre ventured.

“Duo's not my boyfriend,” Trowa chuckled softly, and Quatre sighed softly in relief. 

“But you have obligations,” Trowa said moving back to the actual topic. An out to save his own pride as much as to spare him the torture of hearing the words he feared Quatre would say either way.

“I have to work late tomorrow after the meeting. Would the day after...,” Quatre's voice trailed off. Those green eyes looking at him were slowly tugging at him, wanting to make him walk the steps between them. Making him want to reach out and brush the bangs from those soulful eyes and decipher what was in them.

“Lunch?” Trowa asked finding his heart far more hopeful despite the voice in his head telling it to be still and think logically.

“Lunch,” Quatre confirmed softly. “My place?”

“Alright,” Trowa agreed with a soft nod. A part of him felt better knowing that Quatre wanted to talk, wanted to give him the time. A part of him felt jealous of the friends that were going to most likely be with Quatre the next day even if it was work. And a part of him was terrified of what would happen.

What if Quatre left because he dared say what he felt? What if he left because he thought Trowa was going to be some stalker or trash looking for a hand out? What if he wasn't really as Trowa thought? What if Quatre wanted something far more casual than he was up to offering?

Trowa wished his mind would stop offering him these ideas as he turned to go back down the stairs. He mentally demanded they all take a flying leap off a very tall building, and forgot their wings in the process as he entered the apartment downstairs. He wished he'd just stayed in his apartment, in the window seat in his room, and kept his desire to speak to himself as he laid in bed unable to quiet the questions racing and running wild in his mind the rest of the night.

* * *

“What's wrong with Winner?” Wufei leaned in and whispered into Heero's ear.

Heero smirked slightly as Quatre glanced at him for a moment before eying the notes before him again. Heero leaned back toward Wufei, keeping his words between just them, “He has a date tomorrow.”

Wufei went wide eyed for a moment before looking at the amused grin on Heero's face.

Quatre cleared his throat softly to draw their attention back to the table before them. This meeting was as much for them as it was for Quatre after all. He wasn't starting this business all alone.

* * *

Wufei set his glass of tea on the table before leveling dark eyes on his blond friend. “How long do you plan to withhold information from me?”

“Wufei?”

“Yuy knows about this date. Why am I uninformed?”

Quatre looked to Heero who merely shrugged lightly and gave a soft smile of amusement. “He asked.”

“Gee, thanks,” Quatre muttered. “It's not a date. Trowa just wants to talk to me that's all. Probably to tell me that they don't want people hanging around at all hours bothering the other tenants.”

“He'd have told you that on the stairs. He wants more than a business talk,” Heero offered.

“I've missed too much. I need details, Quatre.”

Quatre gave a small smile, “This isn't a case.”

Wufei gave a slow smile, one that reminded Quatre of why he was on the legal team, and just why his friend was just that. A determined Chang Wufei was his best ally in business, but right now, he felt like he was about to be backed into a corner.

“He said he wanted to talk about,” Quatre stopped, looked up through long bangs at the waiting eyes.

Wufei raised an eyebrow, “About?”

“A lot of things, whatever that is supposed to mean. And my tongue got the better of me and said I wanted to talk,” Quatre said, eyes falling back to the table.

“When?” Wufei asked patiently.

“Lunch,” Quatre answered weakly.

“Tell me you weren't planning on cooking,” Wufei teased knowing his friend all too well.

When Quatre didn't answer, Wufei began to chuckle softly, “This is going to turn into a case. I'll be defending him against allegations of poisoning or murder.”

“He hasn't killed us yet,” Heero countered with a smirk. He rested a hand on Quatre's shoulder, “So what were you thinking?”

* * *

Duo looked Trowa over and raised an eyebrow. “You're going to your first date like that?”

“It's not a date. It's...well, I don't know what it is, but not a date.” Trowa studied his clothes in the mirror for a moment and ran his fingers through his bangs once more.

“Well, what are you going to do when you figure out it's a date? If you're already this nervous, are you going to lose it in front of him?”

“Lose it? Me? Duo, I have never lost it in front of anyone,” Trowa scoffed.

Duo laughed, “Cathy and I don't count?”

“After the fact venting does not constitute losing it,” Trowa chuckled.

Duo couldn't help laughing at the memory of Trowa's exuberant telling of the desperate lady in apartment 136 that had tried to get in his pants every time his hands were too busy to keep her batted away. 

“So, when we getting to the fact that this is really a date with the cute guy upstairs?” Duo changed the subject back.

“It's not a date. He just agreed to talk to me,” Trowa grumbled.

“And if you don't talk on the first date Tro', then what do you do?” Duo asked waggling his eyebrows.

“Duo,” Trowa's voice held a warning edge, but the edge of a smile and faint blush took all the threat out of it.

“You're gonna tell him, aren't you?” Duo asked turning with face and hands disappearing into Trowa's closet.

“That all depends on whether or not he even seems interested,” Trowa said.

“Come on, he was reaching out for you. You said it yourself, he wants to talk to you,” Duo replied over his shoulder.

“I am merely guessing what he was doing. And he may just want to say he plans to move,” Trowa said softly.

“Oh please. Blondie has gotta be hooked on you. The way you said his voice sounded, I would bet on it,” Duo said pulling a t-shirt from Trowa's closet. “Now get that one off and put this one on. If you insist on wearing something so hard for him to get into at least make it tight enough to make his hands want to peel it off of you.”

* * *

Quatre wiped his hands on the dish towel and opened the door. “Trowa,” Quatre breathed, his bright blue eyes locking on the handsome man in front of his door.

“Quatre,” he replied trying to fight the urge to tug on the hem of his t-shirt. “Am I too early?”

“Not at all,” Quatre said stepping aside. “Please, come in.”

Trowa nodded lightly as he stepped inside the apartment. He had to fight the urge to look around the living room again. All the fancy electronics and furnishings just wouldn't make him feel any more like he had a chance.

“It's almost ready,” Quatre said walking toward the kitchen.

“You didn't have to go to any trouble,” Trowa answered following. At least the kitchen wasn't too fancy or highbrow. It was just a nice, normal, ordinary kitchen.

“It wasn't anything difficult,” Quatre replied. He had almost regretted mentioning this to his friends until they came up with the food for him. Something simple and hard to screw up that he pretty much had all the ingredients for without a single trip anywhere. Sometimes it paid to be friends with men who liked to eat at home without take out frequently. 

“Smells good,” Trowa offered. And it did, though he'd learned long ago that smell and taste didn't necessarily go together.

“I just hope it tastes as good as it smells,” Quatre mumbled as he pulled the pot from the stove.

Trowa felt a soft smile curve his lips. The blond man really was cute right then. He was sure that he was watching someone quite accustomed to getting what he wanted, and Trowa was sure there was a bit of the man that liked the challenge of something that didn't bend to his will so easily.

“So,” Trowa started and then stopped. He wasn't sure how to ask any of what he wanted to ask or where to even start. 

Quatre turned and looked at Trowa, bangs swept down in his face, head leaned forward just enough that the bangs fell forward from the tanned skin just a bit, forearms resting on thighs where he sat, hands hanging down between his knees. He waited for Trowa to sift through whatever it was he was thinking for a moment before turning back to the clay pot full of ginger chicken.

“I'm sure you have a lot of questions,” Quatre started and took a slow breath. “I hope I'm still welcome here.”

Trowa looked up with surprised green eyes. 

“I assure you that the media tends to leave me alone except when other parties call in and offer them information. They don't hang around me,” Quatre said quickly before turning to carry the pot to the table. 

“I hope it's alright. I never tried this before. Wufei insisted I couldn't mess it up even if I tried,” he said, a faint hint of a self-depreciating chuckle in his tone.

When Trowa's eyes merely followed him, Quatre tried to smile. “He's my lead legal adviser and a very good friend,” Quatre explained.

Trowa caught himself sighing softly as a bit of hope fell away. Lead legal adviser was way out of his league. He was simple, really. Just an every day guy working a blue collar job trying to get by the best he knew how. 

“Why were you hiding who you are?” Trowa finally managed as he took the spoon to get a bit of the ginger chicken on his plate.

“I know it sounds crazy, but I didn't want people knowing my name because of my family,” Quatre said. He'd tried to explain it to people before. In fact, it had taken Heero and Wufei both some time to understand, and that had taken getting to know him and seeing what he meant first hand.

Trowa didn't speak, just waited for Quatre to explain further. He'd swallowed his fourth bite before he decided he was waiting for nothing.

“It's good,” he mumbled at first lifting his fork with his next bite on it up to make sure what he meant was clear.

Quatre ducked his head a bit, a faint blush covering his cheeks, “Thanks.”

Trowa smiled. “Never seen anyone come here with you,” Trowa started, and Quatre looked at him carefully.

“I don't tend to make many friends,” Quatre said quietly.

“Family run them off?” Trowa asked and almost hated himself for not stopping before it came out of his mouth.

“Not exactly,” Quatre hedged.

“Cathy tried to run Duo off, more than once. Great friend, but a bit over the top at times,” Trowa said hoping it would get Quatre talking like it had the first time. “I'm sure he'd like to meet you,” Trowa said and bit his tongue at that statement. 

“A lot of people would, I'm afraid,” Quatre sighed.

“Because of your name,” Trowa said finally willing to say what he hoped Quatre had been avoiding.

“Yeah.”

“Duo's not like that,” Trowa said. He felt he at least owed Duo that much defense. “He might show up a little drunk asking strange questions, but he's really fairly harmless.”

“Strange questions?”

Trowa blushed remembering Duo's attempt to get them to talk in the middle of the night.

“Oh,” Quatre chuckled with a light blush of his own as he decided this Duo lost too many inhibitions and asked far too personal questions.

“You want to stay, right?” Trowa asked wanting to hear the words more than just guess he'd picked up on the comment earlier correctly.

Quatre nodded.

“Good,” Trowa answered and took another bite.

Quatre smiled. “I...well,” Quatre started and stopped. He took a deep breath and refused to look up to see the green eyes watching him.

Trowa reached across the table and rested long fingers over the back of Quatre's hand. “Go ahead.”

Quatre blushed brightly now, eyes falling on their hands. “I hoped you'd want me to stay.”

Trowa smiled and gave a soft nod despite Quatre's not looking. “Why wouldn't I?”

Quatre let his eyes come up to the bright green eyes so intense in their expression and had to remind himself that breathing was necessary. “Why would you?”

Trowa looked away quickly with a blush, his hand withdrawing across the table in the process. This was what he came here for he reminded himself a couple times.

“Because it's good for business and guaranteed rent,” Quatre sighed.

“No!” Trowa gasped and looked at Quatre in shock. “That's not it at all.” Trowa swallowed and took a deep breath. 'Now or never,' he thought.

“I want to know you better. I want to be friends, maybe..... maybe more,”Trowa's voice trailed off on the last of it.

“More?” Quatre asked, eyes wavering in their gaze, searching, hoping.

Trowa nodded. “Since the first time I was here.”

“And you didn't....” Quatre started and blushed.

“I don't really fit in your world. I knew that when I saw all the expensive stuff in there,” he said with a nod of his head back through the doorway.

Quatre reached across the table to Trowa's hand, taking it in his, and watching the green eyes come back to his. “I left that house and hid my name because of 'that world',” Quatre said quietly.

The way the tone sounded annoyed with 'that world' drew in Trowa's attention more than anything else in that sentence. This man was looking at him with so many things going through the light blue eyes that he almost couldn't keep his own focus. He was sure those eyes could overwhelm and swallow him up if he wasn't careful.

Trowa couldn't help but look a little confused and surprised when Quatre started to laugh, softly at first and then right into a full, glorious sound.

“Heero was right,” Quatre laughed. “He...he said we were both...,” Quatre tried to continue knowing just how much his friends were going to enjoy telling him just how wrong he was and right they were.

Trowa joined Quatre in his laugh. “Was it that obvious to everyone else?”

Quatre nodded and wiped at the tear on his cheek, “Yeah.”

Trowa smiled. Quatre's friends must have gotten a good deal of amusement with the way they were dancing around it all, Trowa decided.

“I'm sure they find my attraction amusing ,” Trowa said, unable to stop smiling at the way Quatre's face lit up in his own amusement.

“More amused at me. If I'd had to hear Wufei tell me 'avoiding is not the proper tactic' one more time,” Quatre chuckled.

“They don't find it...” Trowa started a bit surprised.

“What, Trowa?” Quatre asked, eyes looking at him curiously.

“Odd, completely unacceptable, social suicide,” Trowa rambled off.

“Absolutely not. Wufei is an utter romantic according to his wife, and I can believe it. Anyone that can be that passionate about law, can't be totally dispassionate in the bedroom. And as for Heero, just because he's single doesn't mean he doesn't know a good man when he sees one,” Quatre said. “Besides if they thought like that, they'd not be my friends.”

“They aren't concerned about what this will do to your social standing?” Trowa asked, finding his own concern for it coming out of no where. Wasn't this what he'd wanted? Didn't he want Quatre to want him despite his low standing?

“They want me happy, Trowa. And if that means being with someone that is not part of the company's social circle, that is fine,” Quatre informed him. 

“Would,” Trowa started and took a drink from his glass before continuing, “would I...”

“Very,” Quatre said ending his suffering rather than making him find the words.

“Very,” Trowa agreed quietly.

“We better eat before it gets cold. I don't know how well it will reheat,” Quatre said before he lost himself in those green eyes.

Trowa nodded.

Trowa was a little uncomfortable when Quatre moved them to the living room to talk. The couch was so comfortable, but that feeling of being out of his depths was nagging at him. 

“Trowa?” Quatre called again. He placed his hand on Trowa's arm and tried to draw the man's mind back to the present. “Did I say something wrong?”

Trowa shook his head as he came back to the conversation, “No..no, sorry.”

“Does it all make you that uncomfortable?” Quatre asked gesturing to the rest of the room.

Trowa ducked his head, “I guess.”

Quatre leaned in and brushed his lips against Trowa's, a ghost of a touch, before leaning in and trying again. He was about to pull away when Trowa's lips pressed back against his, a hand easing into his hair as if he might just vanish if touched.

The need for air finally forced them apart, both looking into the other's eyes. Quatre couldn't help but smile at the flushed cheeks. 

“I've wanted to do that for a while now,” Quatre nearly whispered.

Trowa nodded lightly as he leaned in closer to Quatre this time, “Me too.” He started this time, less tentative in the start, still tasting and questing.

Quatre moaned as the tongue delved about as deep as it could reach, fingers of one hand curled in the blond hair, fingers of the other touching his neck in what was obviously a very sensitive spot for him.

Trowa smiled against the lips as they had to breathe again. Then he turned his head to kiss at the neck in the same spot, tongue darting out and licking, then nipping gently.

“Trowa,” Quatre sighed tipping his head to expose the expanse of neck to the exploring lips. 

Trowa wanted to mark him, to nip and suck and bite until there was no question that he'd been claimed, but he knew better. He knew that wouldn't go over well when Quatre went back to work the next day.

Quatre's fingers curled into the auburn hair and tried to pull the questing mouth back to his neck as he started to withdraw. Trowa chuckled softly. “Like that?”

Quatre nodded sharply and swallowed despite his mouth feeling suddenly very dry.

Trowa tugged Quatre's shirt free of his waistband and slid under caressing the warm skin of his side. He nipped at Quatre's adam's apple before moving to the barely visible bit of skin that the first couple of buttons exposed, kissing slowly.

“May I?” Trowa breathed against the kiss dampened skin.

Quatre shivered as he looked down at the way Trowa looked, hand poised to unbutton his shirt, mouth just off his skin enough to speak, the other hand holding his side. Quatre nodded his agreement.

“Say it,” Trowa whispered, “please.”

Quatre swallowed again, a blush making the flushed cheeks even brighter, “Yes...oh yes.” 

Trowa wasted no time getting the buttons opened, kissing the skin as it was bared to him. He slid his hand back up over tight stomach and lean muscled chest. Quatre gasped as Trowa's mouth descended upon a nipple to lick and suck.

Quatre's fingers trembled in the auburn hair unable to draw Trowa closer or even attempt to move him away had he wanted to, and he didn't want to. 

Trowa moved to the other side once the nipple he was working on was hard. He smiled against Quatre's chest when he felt the shiver run through the blond's body. 

“T...T....Trowa,” Quatre stammered out.

“Hmm?” Trowa purred as he leaned back just enough to look into Quatre's eyes. 

Quatre squirmed a little, far too close to the edge to suit him, and too embarrassing to admit. Instead, he leaned in, guiding Trowa's head, and kissed him again, half missing the lips at first and having to adjust his aim a bit. His fingers dug into the back of Trowa's head and his shoulder trying to ground himself.

As they started to draw apart, Quatre's hand slid from Trowa's shoulder to touch his chest through the cotton shirt that hugged Trowa's torso in all the right places, everywhere. 

“My turn,” Quatre said a bit more bold than he felt. He pushed Trowa back gently with his hand planted in the middle of Trowa's chest. 

He eased his hands beneath the shirt letting his fingers feel the muscles. His eyes stayed locked on the way his hands looked beneath the taut, black fabric. Trowa tugged his shirt up and smiled as Quatre's eyes followed the hem up as it revealed less tanned skin than the arms and face he was so used to seeing. 

Quatre licked his lips and leaned in to press a tentative kiss to a shoulder. Trowa curled his fingers into the blond hair, slowly flexing in the locks to feel the softness.

Quatre pressed a kiss to the darker skin of the nipple, trying to look up at the same time to gauge if he was doing it right. His tongue darted out and flicked across the nub. Trowa gave a moan that rumbled free of his throat easily and sent a shiver right down Quatre's back and straight into his groin.

Quatre placed his mouth on the pert nipple and began to try to tease it as Trowa had his, trying different ways of working his tongue over the sensitive spot while he sucked lightly. Those moans and soft encouragements kept falling from Trowa's lips.

Suddenly, Quatre stopped, raised up a bit, and began kissing Trowa again. There was a ferocity to the kiss Trowa hadn't expected, but it was welcomed as he wrapped an arm around the blond ravaging his lips with a low growl of pleasure. Quatre ducked his head into the crook of Trowa's neck as his body began to shudder.

“Oh Allah,” Quatre groaned.

Trowa pressed a kiss to Quatre's neck as the tone of Quatre's voice sunk into his brain. “Quatre?”

Quatre didn't look up, but the blush that was covering the skin right down into his shoulders caught Trowa's attention.

“Did you...?” Trowa asked softly, his hand stroking tenderly over Quatre's back, the light weight shirt the only thing blocking him from reaching skin.

Quatre nodded, mortified.

Trowa smiled and caught himself before he chuckled. Quatre obviously felt bad enough already, and he certainly didn't want him thinking that he was laughing at him. Trowa tried to find enough blood in his mind to think as Quatre refused to look at him.

He finally came up with a plan he thought might make Quatre feel better and just might get them headed back in the direction they'd been headed in to begin with. He took hold of Quatre's hand gently and laid it over his own hard member still dripping tucked tightly in his jeans. 

“Trowa?” Quatre whispered, voice showing confusing and a bit of that hungry fire that had been kissing Trowa moments before.

“Please,” Trowa whispered, and began pressing kisses into the skin he could reach trying to find that sensitive spot on Quatre's neck again. He rocked his hips to grant a little more contact as he guided Quatre's hand into a position that felt good and not completely uncomfortable for Quatre.

He released the pale wrist as the hand began to touch on it's own, exploring him through his jeans. Soon, Trowa was unable to keep kissing, leaning his forehead against Quatre's shoulder.

“Trowa?” Quatre called softly, his hand stilling with his palm against the head of Trowa's member, fingers reaching down over the length.

“I don't want to leave a mark,” Trowa panted. He rocked his hips more, jerking, and losing all sense of rhythm. 

With a moan, Trowa's body began to shudder beneath Quatre. “Damn,” Trowa panted, his voice telling Quatre that it was far from a complaint.

Quatre raised up slowly as Trowa's head tipped back. Light blue eyes met bright green. 

“Why did you...?” Quatre started and then glanced down to his hand and then Trowa's jeans with a small, dark spot on them.

Trowa gave a small grin before leaning in to kiss Quatre softly. “Didn't it feel good?” Trowa asked quietly.

Quatre blushed and dropped his head. Trowa reached up and lifted Quatre's face so he could see those blue eyes on his again.

“Besides, how can I suggest we help each other clean up if I didn't?” he said with smirk.

Quatre smiled slightly, “A shower?”

“Sounds good,” Trowa agreed and pulled Quatre from the couch with him.


End file.
